Moorhouse Inn
3rd Sunday after Trinity
Catherine Elizabeth Mary is 6. Ally woke very grumpy. She gets over tired. I went to get Samuel some breakfast and we played with his toys. I could hear Anne, our aged cleaner, banging away below. I presumed it must be Anne. For all I know it might be Myra Hindley.
The Sunday Telegraph was smeared in strawberry jam. I suppose it's the price one pays for having children. Samuel's talking is coming along great guns. He can now speak numerous words and will have a go at anything. Mummy is still a difficult one. Dull, overcast sort of day. Over to Menston (to see our niece on her birthday) via the cemetery at 3:30. David has nailed a large name plate into Mum's grave. "N.Rhodes" in large black letters like a car number plate. I muttered a few words to the occupant below. To Leathley Crescent. It was full of children, all the grandchildren except Hannah. Lynn and Dave organised party games - they seem to have a forte for it. I sat in the kitchen thumbing through a catalogue of headstones. How very ghastly and bizarre Lynn and John suggested we 'buy the cheapest', but that was never Mum's idea of how to carry on. I selected one, not too flash, but reasonably priced. We returned home after 5, very jaded. Together my family is a daunting bunch. Dad's eyes were like piss holes in the snow. He'd been out on the tiles with John & Janette last night. Very busy evening. Gary in.
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